Minerva McGonagall's schooldays
by Catherine E. Grant
Summary: Minerva McGonagall has a school record far worse than any of her future students.
1. Minerva McGonagall's Schooldays: Chapter...

MINNY MCGONAGAL'S SCHOOLDAYS   
Author: Catherine E. Grant  
  
A/N: Sorry, couldn't think of a better title. Please   
R/R!  
  
Summary: Minerva wasn't always the perfect student   
everyone assumes she was. Also why she & Trelawney hate   
each other.  
  
Disclaimer: Hmmm…If you recognise the names they belong   
to J.K. Rowling. Simple. If you don't, they're mine.   
The story is also mine. Hogwarts is not.  
  
~~~~  
MINNY MCGONAGAL'S SCHOOLDAYS   
~~~~  
  
Frantically the girl raced along the corridors of   
Hogwarts, clutching her Transfigurations book in one hand   
and a battered quill and wand in the other. The pounding   
of her shoes raised little notice from the silent walls   
around her for no one heard her pass. She was late.   
Again.  
  
"Hell!" she swore through gritted teeth. Professor   
Dumbledore wasn't going to be very happy. Already, the   
normally easy-going Transfigurations teacher, who just   
happened to also be the head of Gryffindor house, wasn't   
very impressed with the latest representative of the   
McGonagall clan. This would be the fourth time she'd   
received detention from him this week. For the same   
reason.  
  
As she ran, Minny tried to reason with herself. It   
wasn't like she purposely slept in, after all, and she   
hadn't done her homework because someone hid her book.   
It sounded plausible, though she had little doubt he'd   
fail to believe her. With a skid she arrived at her   
classroom and fell heavily against the door. It swung   
inward and the girl stumbled inside, dropping her book   
and quill and tripping over her robes. She swore as she   
landed in a disorderly heap on the pristine floor. The   
sound of tearing fabric alerted her to the fact that   
she'd torn her robes – again. This would make it the   
second time this month. Hell.  
  
Maybe Dumbledore wasn't in yet? Under her breath she   
whispered a soft prayer. Gasping slightly she pushed her   
disarrayed glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and   
dared a glance upwards. Her eyes met polished black   
boots. Glistening purple robes. Grey beard. The   
furious eyes of one Professor Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"So glad you could join us, Miss McGonagall," he said   
icily. Someone in the class snickered. Sharply he   
picked up her Transfigurations book and the quill,   
straightening the ruffled feathers and the bent pages.   
Minerva's heart sank as she watched him place them on his   
desk then turn his attention back to her. "I am very   
disappointed in you" Dumbledore enunciated clearly,   
making every word feel like a lash against her skin. The   
girl flinched. "Fifty points from Gryffindor – yes, I   
will take points from my own house, please take note of   
that in the future - for treating your equipment with   
such disrespect. Someday your life may depend upon   
taking care of your tools. Fifty points from Gryffindor   
for being late. Fifty points for your appearance. Fifty   
points for not doing your homework…"  
Minerva found her voice. "You haven't asked me if I've   
done my homework or not!" she protested weakly.  
"Have you?" he asked evenly.  
Hurriedly she shook her head. "No, but that's not the   
point…" her words faded away as Dumbledore began to   
laugh. "For all your faults, Miss McGonagall, you are a   
true Gryffindor. But bravery-" and here he marked his   
words by waving a finger "-is alas not the only thing you   
will ever need. Homework, believe it or not, is actually   
an essential part of life, especially for us mere mortals   
who can't expect to know everything perfectly the first   
time. Now, get to your seat." As she clambered to her   
feet he handed her her things and she took them eyes   
downcast, cheeks flaming. She'd lost two hundred points   
from Gryffindor in one morning! Silently she slunk to   
her seat as Dumbledore turned again to the rest of the   
class to continue the lesson.   
  
Minerva hunched over her desk and chewed the end of her   
pen. Sybill Trelawney kept sending her gloating looks,   
nudging her friends and pointing. When she caught their   
eyes they all subsided into giggling. Furious, she   
clenched her teeth and swore that she'd get Trelawney   
back if it took her twenty years. That silly little   
Hufflepuff would get what was coming to her and she,   
Minerva McGonagall, would be the one to give it to her.   
The vow took some of the edge from her shame but she   
still flushed whenever she looked at any Gryffindors.   
Most of them wouldn't meet her gaze.   
  
I'll show them, she thought. I'll give them a reason to   
talk to me again. I'll give Father a reason to be proud   
of me, show my stupid brothers and sisters, damn them   
all! that I'm just as clever as they are, rub Trelawney's   
superior face into the difference between us! I'll get   
her good and proper.   
  
"Miss McGonagall?" Professor Dumbledore's slightly amused   
voice broke into her thoughts and rapidly Minerva   
realised she had broken her quill and was digging claw   
marks into the surface of the desk. One realisation   
followed another as she discovered she was the only   
student left in the room. Her cheeks flamed a deeper   
scarlet. How long had she been sitting here? Long   
enough, apparently.  
  
"Thinking revengeful thoughts?" he asked, studying her   
intently. The girl's hair bobbed frantically as she   
firmly shook her head. "No sir," she answered, thankful   
her voice was still steady. Killing Trelawney didn't   
count as revenge, that was just doing her part for the   
greater good of Hogwarts. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.   
"You've been given Miss Trelawney the evil eye for the   
past hour" he commented. "I do believe the dear child is   
terrified of you. Please don't do anything rash you   
might regret."  
Rash? Maybe. Regret it? Never.  
Once again, the Transfiguration teacher proved why some   
students accused him of being able to read minds when he   
replied "Perhaps you won't regret what you do, when you   
do it, but if you get expelled you might."  
  
Get expelled?!  
  
Minerva stared at him in horror. "Expel me?" she asked   
in a little voice. He nodded. "It is, I must say, an   
unfortunate possibility."  
"But…"  
"Miss McGonagall, your grades leave a lot to be desired.   
Your attitude is appalling. Your conduct, frankly, is   
disappointing and shameful, and you have the longest list   
of demerits of any student in this school's history. Any   
ill-meaning action on your part towards Miss Trelawney   
would almost certainly result in your expulsion from   
Hogwarts."  
"I'm not that bad, am I?" Minerva asked softly.   
Expelled? Perhaps another wizarding school would take   
her, but she doubted it. Not even Beaubaxtons, tolerant   
though they were, would accept 'leavings' from Hogwarts.   
The English school of Wizardry was known for putting up   
with things no other school would tolerate.   
  
And they would expel her.  
  
Dumbledore was watching her expectantly. "It's not a   
pleasant thought, is it?" he asked finally.  
She shook her head. "No sir."  
"This is your fifth year. You have the potential to be a   
great witch if you apply yourself. I don't want to see   
you thrown out because you couldn't control your   
aggressive tendencies. Miss Trelawney may irritate you   
but I don't believe revenge is worth expulsion. Surely   
if you got yourself thrown out you would be doing her a   
favour? That is hardly good revenge, Minerva."  
  
It was the first time he ever used her first name. It   
made her look at him, look at him properly. Beneath the   
serious exterior there was a twinkle of good humour in   
his dark eyes, and smile creases marred his weathered   
face. But of what she expected to see, pity, there was   
no sign. It dared her to think she might actually have a   
chance left at Hogwarts.   
  
Quietly she shook her head, slumped miserably in her   
seat. "What use is there, sir?" she asked calmly. "Even   
if I tried to work now, I'd be bound to fail, so I'd only   
be burning myself out for little result. I'm not the   
sort of person who can just turn around and make   
something of my life."  
"Yes, yes you are" murmured Dumbledore softly, placing   
his hands over her own clenched ones. "I have faith in   
you Minerva, you will become an incredible witch. You   
will be the greatest McGonagall to ever attend Hogwarts.   
Please don't think that because everyone else in your   
family has done well that to stand out you must fail.   
You don't. You WILL make something of yourself, WILL   
become the person you are meant to be. You WON'T be   
expelled, and you WON'T slide into the gutter."  
  
A single tear slipped down the girl's face and the man   
moved one of his hands to gently wipe it away. "Yes,   
I've heard what some of the students and unfortunately,   
some of the teachers, say about you. I DON'T BELIEVE   
THEM. NEITHER SHOULD YOU. Just because everyone around   
you say you're a failure doesn't mean you are, it doesn't   
mean you have to listen to them."  
  
Slowly, Minerva nodded. She began to sniff as more tears   
fought their way into the world and trickled down her   
face in search of adventure. At Dumbledore's words, so   
innocent and full of faith, her hard facade cracked and   
she found herself little able to suppress the emotions   
that surged out of her. She wept, and he let her cry.  
  
"If you really want to make a go of this, and I think you   
should, I'll teach you myself," he encouraged. "I think   
that with extra lessons in everything to bring you up to   
scratch, and then continued effort in each area, you   
could even become head girl."  
She snorted. "Me? Head girl? Next you'll say I should   
become a teacher!" The thought was ludicrous.   
Silently he handed her a tissue from a large, emerald box   
that appeared floating at his shoulder. Minerva dried   
her eyes and blew her nose. What if she agreed? She   
wouldn't be expelled, but she'd be the laughingstock of   
Hogwarts once Trelawney and her gang found out what she   
was doing. Apart from Dumbledore – and even that had   
come as a surprise – none of the other teachers even   
liked her. Especially not Professor Bicknell, the   
headmaster. Part of that, she was sure, was because he   
was from Slytherin house but most of it was personal   
dislike. Or hatred, that was a better word. He seemed   
to loathe her more with every moment. She half expected   
him to take points off her for breathing!  
  
But she was mostly a laughingstock anyway. Before her,   
she would have seriously doubted that anyone could make   
it to the fifth year without making at least one good   
friend, but she was proof it was possible. Part her wish   
to not be there, part her attitude, behaviour,   
grades…part the fact that she was supposed to live up to   
one heck of a family tradition and it drove her crazy.   
All the students from the old wizarding families looked   
down at her with disgust and pity, and all the   
muggleborns seemed absolutely petrified of her. Just   
because she'd broken a few bones on her first night, at   
dinner. Funny, the bruises had improved them. It had   
all been Trelawney's fault anyway. If she hadn't called   
Minerva a bitch, she wouldn't have hit her, and then no   
one else would have tried to intervene, and she wouldn't   
have hurt anyone. Funny that reputations seemed to   
spread faster than anything in this school – and hers   
wasn't particularly nice. So naturally it spread faster   
than anyone's. And Minerva remained alone. And bitter.  
  
Her decision was made even before she realised she was   
nodding, and Dumbledore was patting her on the shoulder   
saying "Good girl" and "Meet me in my office after the   
evening meal and we'll begin." He handed her a final   
tissue and tapped the box with his wand. It disappeared   
with a faint plop. "Tonight, Miss McGonagall,   
Transfiguration. It will be interesting to see what you   
actually know. Now, I believe you have a robe to mend?"   
Giving her an encouraging smile, he collected his books   
and swept out, leaving her alone with her thoughts.  
  
Silently she picked up her own stuff, absently trying to   
straighten the broken quill before deciding it was a lost   
cause and throwing it away. Her brow furrowed in   
thought. Pulling out her wand, she pointed it at the   
matted feather and barked a single word. The quill   
shuddered. Expectantly she waited. Finally it gave a   
twitch and turned into an apple. Not a good beginning.   
Picking it up anyway she tucked it away in the sleeve of   
her robe. "Why Dumbledore thinks he can teach me is   
beyond me" Minerva muttered fatalistically, striding out   
of the empty room. She wasn't head girl material. She   
wasn't a proper Gryffindor. She wasn't even a proper   
McGonagall. All her siblings had always topped their   
years. Most now had high positions in the Ministry of   
Magic. James was the closest in age to her and he was   
Potions Master at Durmstrang. She wondered, as she often   
had, if it was the great age difference between herself   
and the other kids that made them such opposites.   
Perhaps there was just something in her blood. Nah. Now   
I'm sounding like Trelawney, she scolded herself. The   
pressure on her to keep up the family standard was too   
much. They expected miracles, hell, demanded miracles   
from her, and always had. No child should grow up like   
that, Minerva vowed then; if she were ever to have any   
children she'd make sure there were no unrealistic   
expectations for them to live up to, and make sure they   
knew they only had to do what they felt they could.   
She'd give them a childhood. And maybe, just maybe,   
she'd steal her own back.  
  
Whistling, feeling more cheerful now than she had in   
months – since she'd suspended Trelawney from the   
chandelier in the great hall by her feet – she set off   
for the Gryffindor common room. After all, she wasn't   
forgetting the idea of revenge, was she? She was just   
putting it off for a little while. Until she graduated,   
anyway.   
  
As Head Girl.   
  
Trelawney wouldn't know what hit her.   
  
END  
  
A/N: A random fic, not something I want to make a series   
out of, this doesn't make me happy at all but I thoguht I   
post it just to see what people thought. Now I'll get   
back to working on my Remus/Minerva fic.  
  



	2. Minerva McGonagall's Schooldays: Chapter...

MINNIE MCGONAGALL'S SCHOOLDAYS 2

__

A/N: Well, I actually wrote a second part after all the nice reviews I received on the first piece. I wasn't expecting any. If I get some more on this there might even be another part; however I will only do one if most people who read also review. Get the picture? I can't be bothered putting all the time into writing something if I get no feedback on it at all. Again, I apologise for the title. If you can think of something better, please let me know. You've probably realised I'm scumming from Tom Brown's schooldays as inspiration here!

Disclaimer: As always, they're not mine if Rowling had them first. They belong to her. OTHERWISE THEY'RE MINE!!! Mine mine mine!   
  
Yes, that did make me feel better.

Onto the story! Onwards!

~~~~~  
You had to laugh, Minerva thought idly. Some things were just too plain ridiculous to let you do anything else. Stretching lightly she kicked off a shoe and watched as it impacted against the far wall of Dumbledore's study. The other followed moments later. 

It made her feel a lot happier.

Nearly six weeks ago he'd announced his intention to tutor her. What could she lose? She'd agreed. So far she'd created countless little disasters out of well-structured lessons, broken her wand twice and put Dumbledore in the infirmary. 

He should have known better than to present her with a group of Cornish pixies. In casting the spell to get rid of them she'd been too enthusiastic and brought the ceiling down on both of them.

But as soon as he left the tender ministrations of Madame Pomfrey the transfigurations teacher had insisted their lessons begin again. This time, with added safety precautions.

Sighing Minerva tried to read the scroll again. It was the last assignment that he'd set her, with annotations and corrections pencilled in the margin and between her scrawls. Dumbledore's last instructions to his student had been to rewrite the essay, incorporating the elements he'd suggested, but she was finding it near impossible to concentrate.

What did he expect her to do? Every day she had her normal lesson timetable, but after dinner she was supposed to meet him here, at his office, for several hours worth of extra classes.

It was giving her a headache. Secretly she suspected that if Dumbledore didn't already have grey hair she'd give him a head full overnight. Nothing she did ever seemed to work out properly. Maybe James had been right, perhaps she was a squib.   
  
_But I can do some magic_, she reminded herself quickly. Curiously Minerva picked up her wand and examined it. It had been sellotaped in several places where she'd broken it, the first time with the pixies and later after she'd tried to heat a cauldron of water and the spell had backfired, heating the wand instead. 

Heat wand. Burn hand. Swear loudly. Drop wand. Boil nicely, add in some herbs and flavouring and you have roasted wand in neat bite sized pieces ala Minerva McGonagall.

The girl laughed, replacing the wand in her sleeve. Tiredly she brushed the hair from her eyes. She was sick of having to do something with it. Each time she tied it back it fought with a vengeance. 

"If I could only sic it onto Sybill I'd be set," she mused, a wicked gleam replacing the exhaustion in her eyes. The crazy Hufflepuff had teased her unmercifully when she'd discovered she was taking extra classes. She took such a delight in heaping shit on Minerva.

Surprisingly, a number of other Gryffindors had stood up for her as soon as they'd heard. "Leave her alone" James Potter had told the vixen firmly, never mind that he was only a first year and she a fifth, "it's nothing to do with you if she wants to improve at her school work, because at least she's trying." He'd been somewhat condescending, but Minerva hadn't objected to the unexpected support. She'd laughed outright when his friend, the mischievous Sirius Black, had added "And if she's taking extra lessons we'll know that _she's_ not the one sleeping her way to the top of the class." 

He'd smirked, saucily, batting his eyelids at the Hufflepuff girl. James dragged him away, but not before he'd had the chance to give Minerva a friendly wink. She'd smiled back. For once it had seemed as though she were actually part of something at Hogwarts, not just the outsider. Then the bell for class had rung and she was once again by herself, but it didn't matter quite so much any more.

She thought about sitting with them at meals, but it seemed so silly to think she could intrude on their little clique. They laughed with each other, cheerily, talking and joking and having fun, confident that they had a place there. 

Did she? She didn't know.

Trelawney didn't seem to think so.

Minerva's eyes narrowed and her fingers clenched at the thought of her. That cloud of blonde hair, those perfect features, that irritating little laugh, all made her want to grab her by the neck and snap it. She wanted to hear her bones crack beneath her hands, feel her trembling in fear and whimpering in pain. 

Stupid. Little. Bitch.

Slowly the girl got to her feet, stalked around the room. Dumbledore had a meeting but he had insisted that she study anyway. 

A poorly made portrait of the first Dumbledore stared accusingly out at her from the wall. Minerva shuddered, disliking the baleful glare. Picking up a throw rug from the sofa she tossed it over the picture, arranging it until she could no longer see the beady scowl that tracked her every move.

Idly her fingers traced across the tomes arranged across the heavy shelves. Too difficult. A half made potion bubbled on the cluttered wooden desk, letting off a foul aroma. Selecting a small glass eye-dropper, she extracted a drop of the mixture and let it fall. 

One spot of the desk was now coloured bright blue. Hmm. A slight smile crossed Minerva's face. This could be a possibility. She extracted another sample of the fluid and sealed it in a small specimen jar from the bottom drawer. That disappeared into one of the long pockets of her robes. 

Continuing the search she found a bag of cherry crackers hidden inside a cupboard. She fingered one lightly, deciding, before dropping a small handful in with the jar. She'd heard about these crackers once in the common room, from some of the older boys bemoaning the confiscation of their entire stock. All you had to do was twist the top of the cracker once for each hour you wanted it to wait, then you placed it somewhere and after the set time it would explode. 

Definitely a possibility.

Minerva hummed tunelessly to herself as she looked. For some reason she found herself coming back to the bookshelf. Grabbing a chair, she balanced herself precariously so she could read the titles of the higher volumes. 

"_Potions, procedures and precautions_," she read aloud. "_Illuminating Illusions. The wonder of werewolves, a teacher's guide."_ Huh? Strange. Pure Dumbledore, only he would have such a ridiculous book. 

"_Touching on Transfiguration. Hogwarts: A History. _As if anyone would read that!" She scoffed. 

"_Marvelling at Muggles. Muggle studies of the Ministry. Hunting Hobgoblins. Catching Cornish Pixies. Hogwarts Annual, 1952._" Minerva continued to read the titles, laughing at some and shaking her head at others. She couldn't imagine anyone reading a book titled _"From House-elf to Bumblebee, a History of the Dumbledore Family Name" _for instance, but she was sure there would be some who'd find it interesting. 

"_Spelling for Squibs._" Should she? Heaving the slender volume in one hand, the girl chewed her lip. On the plus side, he wouldn't notice it was gone. The minus was it meant extra study. Oh well. Maybe it would help?  
  
It went into another pocket. _"Tricks to baffle muggles and impress your friends" _followed soon after, as did _"Becoming Animagi: A User's Manual." _

Finding nothing else Minerva clambered down and returned Dumbledore's chair to its position at his desk. She gave the potion another longing look, but decided that if she took any more, it was bound to be noticed. Even by Dumbledore. 

"I can't do that tonight, I just can't," she mused, staring dejectedly at her scrunched up scroll. Her pen-marks sat like drunken scratches next to Dumbledore's flowing script, and it had funny little holes on the edges where she'd clawed it. "Stupid scroll. Stupid stupid scroll," she muttered. It stared back mockingly. She snorted. "Good one, having a staring match with a piece of parchment." It ranked right up there with extra classes as a measure of insanity. Shaking her head she picked it up and vainly tried to straighten it. No luck.

Minerva yawned. Her foraging had left her tired and with an appetite. "If I leave now, I can grab something at the kitchen," she reasoned, debating between that and staying to try and work on her essay. Food won. 

__

Ah, who am I kidding? She thought. _Who could resist food when the alternative is school work_? She laughed. Recently she'd been able to imagine all kinds of strange stuff about herself. But the kitchens of Hogwarts were as appealing as ever…

"Maybe they'll have some of that strawberry flan, the one with the shortbread edging," she mused, "or even that cream cake with the caramel centre! And hot chocolate, I need hot chocolate, can't live without hot chocolate."

The door slammed shut behind her, causing a light wind that ruffled the abandoned scrolls on the desk. The light of a single candle flickered on the walls to cast strange shadows. 

It danced on the curtains and reflected on the glass of the small window. Only the candle saw a lone bee detach itself from the top of the window ledge and dive towards the centre of the room.

It saw the insect hover a moment, buzzing curiously. It was still watching as the bumblebee began to glow with a strange light, and noted, moments later, when it reformed into Albus Dumbledore.


	3. Minerva McGonagall's Schooldays: Chapter...

****

MINERVA MCGONAGALL'S SCHOOLDAYS Ch. 3

Author: Catherine E. Grant

_ _

Disclaimer: The characters, the castle, the inspiration, none are mine but the storyline! 

Minerva balanced precariously on her broom as she soared well above Hogwarts. Slowly she straightened out her arms to give her balance and stood upright. The wind lashed her hair back, she smiled triumphantly. Flying was the one thing she could do without any problems. She never felt more at home than when she was on a broomstick. 

Far below she could see the spirals of each tower on the mighty Hogwarts castle. Barely a breath away sat the Whomping Willow. It always looked like it was lying in wait for someone. She shuddered, fancying it springing from the ground and attacking an unwary student. 

Here, so high above her miserable, piteous life, she could forget everything that irritated her. It didn't seem to matter when she had the sky, and the stars, and the moon at her side. 

Full moon. She loved the sight of the moon; la luna brought her the kind of peace she knew no other time in her life. Minerva laughed softly, felt a silly grin coming over her face. She didn't have to pretend here to be anyone or anything that she was not. Shutting her eyes she directed her broom upwards. When her ears popped with the altitude she levelled out, slowing the broom so she could just drift.

Minerva stared down at the Hogwarts lake, seeing the sky reflected in the crystal depths. It was said no one knew how deep the lake really was. Faint ripples played over the surface, shimmering like heat waves in a mirror. Carefully she dropped to one knee, kneeling on her brown while she swung her other leg over the side. Then she straightened her position, and grabbed the smooth wood with both hands to steady herself. Vaguely she could see herself pictured in the lake below, like a blot or an insect in front of the moon.

A small wicked smile crossed she lips and she dove, laughing in exhilaration as the broom spiralled sharply down. Pulling up at the last minute she skimmed the surface of the water, barely avoiding trailing her feet in it. 

Minerva loved the silence of the darkness. For some, she knew, the night seemed empty but for her that was never so. The absence of the clutter of Hogwarts only made it more appealing. When she listened hard she could hear a faint whisper from the forbidden forest, the sound of wind through the trees and the night animals that lived there.

The howling that rent the air belonged to neither.

Frowning, the girl raced swiftly over the rest of the lake. In the shadows of the castle walls she saw a figure moving, prowling restlessly across the grounds. It slunk close to the ground, moving with the stealth of a natural predator but with a grace that bespoke intelligence.

She hovered above it, leaving a few safe metres between herself and the ground. The creature snarled, twisting towards her as though if it could pull her off the broom it would. It slavered hungrily, red eyes gleaming in a froth flecked muzzle. Ivory teeth reflected the soft starlight with a more sinister flavour. 

Minerva leant down as close as she dared, fear warring with curiosity. The creature snapped its teeth warningly. Obviously flesh was flesh, whether it came torn from a rabbit's carcass or falling from the sky. 

The beast tossed back its head and howled, an aching, painful whine that sent shudders down her back. Its agony made Minerva flinch in sympathy.

It had to be in too much pain to harm her, she decided, and dropped altitude quickly. Only a metre separated them as they stared into each other's eyes, girl and beast, loneliness and agony meeting in the otherwise calm night. It howled and she flinched. 

Werewolf. There couldn't be any other explanation. Minerva wondered just how and why it had been allowed so close to Hogwarts. "What if it bit someone?" she thought aloud, staring down at the creature that twisted in pain. 

The unearthly howling stopped and the girl paused to thank her lucky stars it had, without wondering the reason why. She knew when she felt the broom toss beneath her, looked down to see a large portion of wood in the werewolf's jaws. The magic began to fail on what was left as she tried to steer it up, only to find it struggling to maintain position. Minerva drew her legs up and tried to hunch as high as possible. The werewolf made another lunge, catching the edge of her robe and rending the material. Frantically she tried to pull away but a savage toss of the creature's head sent her tumbling off her broom and to the ground below.

Falling awkwardly Minerva felt her leg snap beneath her. 

Red eyes gleamed, fangs flashed and the fierce snarling set her teeth on edge. Her leg burned and as she moved it, she caught a glimpse of bone that sickened her. Blood covered her robes, soaked the ground, tantalising the heightened senses of the werewolf. The girl panted, lungs heaving, sobs choking fiercely in a closed up throat, desperately trying to crawl out of reach of the creature that now stood less than a metre away. 


End file.
